


Fist

by ren_makoto



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Symbiotic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ren_makoto/pseuds/ren_makoto
Summary: "Fight this thing." Bruce's teeth suddenly clenched together, as if he was biting back primal sounds.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	Fist

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the warnings, please. 
> 
> "All right, Westley. I've never had a beta. You can try it for tonight. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

There was glass on the richly carpeted floor, catching the moonlight of a Gotham night like crystals. One reinforced window hung by a single hinge, the bulk of it swinging sadly in the breeze — metal and glass jagged like talons. 

Bruce twisted beneath Clark, one hand straining to pry away Clark's hand where it held him down, right in the center of his chest, making his sternum compress dangerously downwards. Each breath Bruce took sounded like a struggle. 

His other hand was shoving at Clark's own chest, trying to force him up and away. But Clark didn't budge from his place above Bruce, between his legs, deep inside him. Brucke's legs kicked out and clung to Clark's hips at turns. 

The bed was sturdy — all the beds in Wayne Manor were — but this one still squeaked and rattled as Clark's hips slapped hard into the muscles of Bruce's ass. _Slap, slap, slap_. It was rhythmic. He was slamming into Bruce hard, but with a frown on his face as if satisfaction eluded him. 

The voice did not hiss in Clark's ears. He could not hear it, but each sound seemed to echo in his chest.

_He is strong. Give him more. Own him. Take him._

"Shut up!" Clark shouted. It was _inside_ him, a screaming, desperate Need, and he wanted to fuck it out, make it go away, spray it from his rock-hard cock into Bruce's wrecked body. He _had_ to have Bruce. He would fill him up and share this Need with him. As many times as it took to make that Need wane in his own body; make the shrinking compression in his chest recede.

Bruce's body welcomed him despite Bruce's struggles. It was tight inside him; hot and slick. Still so tight despite how long Clark had been taking his battered body. Taking him. Taking…

_Why fight this? I gave you what you want. He is yours, is he not?_

Clark panted as Bruce involuntarily squeezed down on him, his body clenching as he thrashed. The voice was right. 

"Yes. Mine." The blackness of his eyes went darker in spurts, like tar bubbling up from the earth.

Clark's head dropped back on his shoulders as more pleasure soared up his cock and to his stomach. A strained, tortured and breathless sound escaped from his lips. 

"Listen to yourself...please," Bruce croaked.

"Mmm...So good. Bruce..."

"This is wrong," was Bruce's protest. He pushed against Clark's chest more forcefully, but his sweating hand slipped off. Clark's chest was steel-strong. Inflexible. 

Clark's hips stilled and he caught Bruce's hand, slammed it above Bruce's head, and held it there, squeezing it once in warning. A quick glance was spared for Bruce's other hand, then it too was caught with blazing speed and held above Bruce's head. 

"Hmm," Clark said. Then his eyes flashed violent, blinding red, and the metal of the headboard was instantly distorted. Clark wrenched the bar free, turned it easily, and shaped it. A squeaking, groaning, metal sound filled the air.

Bruce's wrists were bound by the metal, and that metal was twisted to the headboard. Clark grinned. Bruce struggled against the binding on his wrist, but he was well and truly trapped.

The terror of Gotham's underworld — The Dark Knight — was restrained easily now. He could not fight. He would be claimed. 

Batman had met his match.

With his hands free, Clark could touch more. He balled his fists, let them relax. Then his fingers plucked at Bruce's nipples, squeezing and rolling them. His hands curled into claws and he raked his fingernails down Bruce's torso, leaving faint, pink streaks of broken skin. Then he licked up the beaded blood. 

The black, triumphant fist of that Need inside Clark squeezed his heart, squeezed everything it found there, like smashing a rotten fruit. 

All the things he felt for Bruce, for Batman drip, dripped down, pooled in his loins, tugged at his hips, drove them forward brutally again. He was fucking Bruce harder now. It still wasn't enough. 

"The taste of you," Clark said. He latched onto one nipple and sucked, bit down when Bruce jerked. The other nipple received the same treatment, and Clark slowed to rock gently into Bruce as he nibbled at his chest. After a minute indulging with his teeth, he roughly flicked the nipple back and forth with his tongue. He exhaled a sigh over the wet skin; sucked again like he could devour the nub. Bruce made a wild, pained noise that intensified at each push of Clark's cock back into him. Very slowly now, savoring it — in and out with a sharp jerk at the end as Clark stabbed home again and again.

Clark bit his own lip. His hand roamed restlessly over Bruce's body, jerked his cock twice, squeezed his balls, massaged his ass. 

_You are throbbing. You need release._

"I want..."

_You can have. Take him. Take all of him._

"Yes. Take him." 

_Good. After all, who has a chance against you?_

"No...no one."

 _No one. Even_ he _is no exception. He too will worship you. Be a god. Be_ his _god._

Clark screamed, and he lifted Bruce's hips, maneuvered him so his ass was high off the bed, angled just right for Clark to pound into. All Bruce's weight was on his shoulders and neck now. He was a feast of skin and scars, body jerking and sliding on the bed as he was fucked. His bound arms jerked and bled beneath the metal. Clark's fingers dug into Bruce's hips, each finger a dagger holding him to take Clark's thrusts. 

Saliva streamed from Bruce's open, panting mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, tossed his head from side to side, and the veins and tendons there stood out like machine wire. Clark's gaze wandered: Bruce's nipples were peaked and swollen; blood still welled up from the scratches on his chest. Yes. A feast.

Clark's tongue glided over his teeth as if he could still feel Bruce's nipples gnashed between them. He licked his lips as if he still sucked them, breathed hotly over them.

That was merely the surface of Bruce's skin — wet, blooming purple and scarlet from new bruises — and it wasn't enough. Clark's eyes sparked a vicious, dangerous red.

He could see the blood pumping through Bruce's body; contained rivers of it flowing up to his beautiful, distraught face, and down to his beautiful, half-hard cock. The muscle of his heart pumped so fast, the drumbeat of it hypnotic.

Clark could look further and see through the skin and tissue and muscle to Bruce's guts where Clark's cock ruined him, stretched him wide, and pushed and pulled his insides wildly with each thrust. 

"Nng. Look at you. You're...mine now. Take it. Take it deeper."

"You don't want this. You don't want to...nng...hurt me," Bruce said. His voice was weak and raspy, and his long legs were moving, looking for purchase to push Clark away.

"More," Clark begged. 

"Fight this thing." Bruce's teeth suddenly clenched together, as if he was biting back primal sounds.

"Let me hear you," Clark panted. He groaned when Bruce complied, when a series of staccato sounds broke from Bruce's mouth on each thrust. 

"Clark. Fight it. It will... _ah ..._ leave your body if you... _ah_...fight it. Don't listen to what it says. It's using you..."

"Shut up, Bruce. I have to keep fucking you. I need you."

Bruce swallowed and spoke with a trembling voice as his fists clenched and unclenched above the makeshift handcuffs. 

"Listen to my voice. _Superman,_ this isn't you," Bruce said. He sounded...reasonable. 

Clark froze. That name cut like a dagger, right to the heart of him.

"Super...man. Not...me?" His eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head like a dog trying to shake off a flea. The darkness in his eyes rolled back. 

_Do not listen to this._

Bruce blinked slowly, licked his bruised lips. "No. You're good, Superman. The best of us all."

"I'm...good," Clark repeated. One of his hands lifted, rubbed at his chest, and the skin rolled and shifted away from his fingers. 

_Make him be silent. He will not deny us. He is strong. Resilient. Your power will not break him. Make him yours._

"Mine." The darkness crashed back like waves.

"Clark," Bruce started, but never finished as Clark's eyes went black and his thrusts sped faster than ever.

Clark's hips blurred, the muscles of his arms bunched as he held Bruce steady. 

Now an unbroken stream of sounds poured from Bruce. "Ah, ah, nn, aa, a, aaaa."

Clark smiled and arched, his hips pulling him like a bow. "Yes...like that. I need more. More. You're perfect. Ah...ah! There. Yes. I'm...I'm...Ah!" Clark's voice went high and breathy. Red flashed out, and the ceiling scorched — twin, black, gashes smoking high above.

"I can't...take more," Bruce cried, but his words were barely discernible as his whole body rocked. 

"You can," Clark moaned. His hips stilled then, and he shot his load into Bruce, filled him up. The fist squeezed harder inside him, the skin of his chest caving, his ribs cracking as the Need made more room for itself.

Bruce arched and jerked at the feel of wet splashing into him, painting deep into his body. Twitching, roiling. Crawling deeper. Higher.

"You will," Clark added. He dropped heavily onto Bruce's shaking body, kissed his open mouth. Bruce froze, his eyes widened, and he screamed into the kiss. 

_Fill every place that can be filled. Take him. Claim him._

Bruce went limp and remained that way even as Clark caressed him, stroked his damp cheeks. 

After long moments where the only sound was Clark's ragged breathing evening out, there was the sudden, jarring sound of metal pulling and snapping. Of metal being torn to shreds. Clark looked up and his eyes lit up with surprise.

Bruce's arms lifted languorously, wrapped around Clark's back, and stroked Clark's neck.

"I will," Bruce said. His voice was strong, but hollow. A gnarled thing shifted beneath his skin, stopped above his heart and made a fist. His ribs groaned like a ship's mast bending with the wind.

Clark lifted up and hovered above Bruce, looked down at his heart where something grew and pulsed. His eyes dropped to his own chest where knuckles moved and flexed.

"We are," he said and Bruce nodded, then gasped when Clark shoved their hearts close together, and the two fists surged, as if trying to wrap around each other, join together. Fuse.

Bruce roughly pushed Clark away — was evidently strong enough now to do it — and rolled onto his stomach. He went to his hands and knees, presenting his red, wide hole for Clark to see. When he looked over his shoulder at Clark, his eyes were black and fathomless.

"I need you," Bruce whispered.

Clark was there in an instant, sliding home, rocking into Bruce.

The fist inside him squeezed, burrowed into his heart, and thrived.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping in for some porn!
> 
> I kinda feel obligated to apologize to anybody who made it through the whole story hoping Superman would end up with his forearm wedged into Batman's anus, and is now disappointed that it wasn't that at all. The title was about the fist of the symbiote around Clark's heart, not his actual fist doing naughty things to Bruce. I could have put this apology at the beginning of the story, but this is way funnier since the realization just now hit me that 'fist' means something else when it comes to kink. 
> 
> I will now add an additional apology for my sense of humor. If you've never read one of my stories before, give another one a go. The problems with my sense of humor should become clear to you then. If you HAVE read my stories before, well thanks! You're True Blue. I suppose you're used to all this mess by now.


End file.
